


Wrath and Ruin

by stellarose



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Gen, Origin Story, Parent Thranduil, Pre-Lord of The Rings, Young Legolas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-01-13 17:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1235539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarose/pseuds/stellarose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The King faced a dragon to save his people, but the cost was almost his own life. Whilst recovering, the care of the Realm has fallen to his reluctant son, who is struggling with the weight of responsibility.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or names in this belong to JRR Tolkien and, where applicable, to Peter Jackson/Warner Brothers and team.
> 
> I orginally posted this work on FanFiction.net with the penname of foleste11. https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10038022/1/Wrath-and-ruin

One of the soldiers cleared the table with a sweep of his arm, sending papers and books and goblets crashing to the ground, and the elves carrying the unconscious King laid him carefully upon the table. The King's body had now gone limp, but he still felt as though he were burning.

"Call for Lord Elrond!" the Captain called, looking at the scared faces of the elves around him. He could feel the fear amongst them. "Now!" A small Silvan soldier ran from the tent.

"What do we do?" asked his Lieutenant.

The Captain was unsure. The previous King of the Greenwood Forest had been killed in battle during the War of the Last Alliance, with the current King, now lying and dying on the table in front of him, by his side. But this King's heir was leagues away; the young princeling begrudgingly had stayed behind. "Get his armour off him," the Captain said as it seemed the logical thing to do. He was afraid the King would die on the table in front of him before Lord Elrond was found. He could not be the one to tell the young Prince that his father's life had been the price of their likely victory and that the princeling was now King. 

"The breast plate is stuck, Captain!" one of the soldiers said.

"Don't pull on it," the Captain snapped. He looked more closely, and saw that some of metal breast plate had melted into the King's tunic. "Just wait for Lord Elrond. Remove everything else. Unless it is also stuck. Just be gentle." The Captain needed to feel useful, but the hopeless was almost overwhelming.

The elves in the tent nodded and went back to fiddling with the buckles and ties of their King’s armour. The Captain paced around the room. He tried not to think of what he had just seen; the dragon, the fire, the King screaming as he burned. The tent flaps flew aside and Lord Elrond entered, fresh from the field. The Captain watched as the great healer approached the King. Lord Elrond himself was dirty and blood-spattered, with singeing on the edge of his cloak.

"Lord Elrond," the Captain began. Lord Elrond held up his hand, and the elves fell silent. They all watched intently as Lord Elrond examined the King's lifeless body, running his fingertips lightly along the King's burnt left side, muttering some form of spell too quickly for the Captain to keep up with what the healer was saying.

"Remove all his armour," Lord Elrond said, looking up.

"The breast plate is stuck to his tunic, my lord," the Lieutenant replied.

"And the left arm guard," said one of the foot soldiers.

"Then cut them off!" ordered Lord Elrond. He hid his emotions well, the Captain thought, but he was obviously scared.

"But…"

"You can cause him anymore harm. You," Lord Elrond said, pointing to a young sergeant. "Run and fetch me the swiftest horse from the Greenwood you can find. It must be a Greenwood horse, to know its way home. Make haste."

"Yes, my lord," said the sergeant, as he ran from the tent.

"Gently now," Lord Elrond said, his attention back on the patient. Carefully, the Lieutenant lifted the breast plate from the King's chest. The King made a guttural wheezing sound as the armour was lifted, the rawness of the noise sending shivers through those present.

"Why the horse, my Lord Elrond?" he asked.

"He will die if he stays here. The air is foul, and there is little at my disposal," Lord Elrond replied, beginning to remove him own armour. "My only choice is to get him back to the Halls of the Greenwood with all haste."

"But he will not survive the journey!" the Captain protested.

"It does look unlikely, I will not lie. But if he stays here, he will most certainly not see out the night. If I take him, there is a chance."

"My lord, look at him!"

"Get me a silk sheet and a cloak," Lord Elrond ordered, ignoring the Captain's protestations.

"My lord, surely this is folly…"

"Now!" Lord Elrond ordered, undoing his own breast plate.

"My lord, he needs not a cloak. He is burning."

"And soon he shall freeze!" There was a note in the great Lord's voice that scared the Captain. A few moments later, the sheet and cloak had been brought. Lord Elrond washed his hands in a bowl of water and commanded the other elves to do so also. Then he instructed them as to how to lift the unconscious King into a sitting position. Lord Elrond wrapped the sheet around the King. Then the cloak was placed gently on the King's shoulders, and the hood brought up over his head. The Captain thought it looked quite scary, a white sheet in a dark cloak. He thought Lord Elrond must be mad. The Halls of the Greenwood were many leagues to the south. He would never make it back with the King still alive. This was madness. The sergeant who had been dispatched to fetch the horse returned. "Be so very gentle with him," Lord Elrond ordered, as the elves carefully lifted the King from the table. Lord Elrond mounted the horse and the elves carefully lifted up their King's limp body. Lord Elrond held the tall King awkwardly. "The Valar will grant him strength," he said to the stunned looking elves in front of him. The Lord Elrond gave the horse the reins, and cantered off through the encampment toward the forest.

As Lord Elrond and the King disappeared from sight, the cries of "victory!" rang out from the field below the encampment. The Captain looked at his Lieutenant, and put his hand on his comrade’s shoulder. They had won the day, but what had been the price?


	2. Chapter 2

Legolas lay on the bed by the window, half watching the stars, half allowing his mind to wander. Somewhere out to the north, his father and their army were battling dragons. Legolas had always dreamt of fighting dragons, as a boy, running through the passageways and corridors of the Halls of his father, fighting imaginary dragons and other such monsters with a practice sword and child-sized bow and quiver. This had been his chance to fight them as a man. He had truly believed that this was his turn; that he would be going off to war. His first real war. Of course, Legolas had been involved with the patrols of the Greenwood for many years, and had been mixed up in the occasional skirmish with stray orcs, but never a real, proper war. He had been involved in all the council meetings with his father and the other elves of senior standing, he had liaised with the armourers and smithies and other craftsmen in order to get armour and provisions for the troops. The night before they were to depart for the north, Legolas had been with his father in the throne room.

"That will be all," the King had said, dismissing his council. "Legolas, you stay."

Legolas had waited while the other elves had departed, full of anticipation. As soon as they were alone, Legolas could not help but speak. He had not had a moment alone with his father since the battle preparations had begun a week ago. "I will have my ceremonial armour polished and set out, Ada. I suppose it is what I must wear. What I wear for patrol is hardly fitting for a war. There has been no time for me to have other plate made."

"No," his father had replied coolly. "Your plate is for ceremonial use only. It is not for battle."

Legolas remembered his heart having jumped a beat and could feel it pounding with excitement and anticipation in his chest. Had his father had armour made for him without his knowing? "Then what shall I wear, Ada?"

"Whatever you please," the King replied, his hands clasped behind his back, "So long as it looks befitting of your position.” Legolas had been confused. It must have shown on his face. "You are not coming north, Legolas."

He had been so shocked. He had been so sure he was to be included. It wasn't fair! "But there are those younger than me riding out with you! I am a better rider and swordsman and bowman and,"

"Vain and arrogant and young, though you cannot be to blame for that. Yes, there are those riding out who are younger than you. Yes, there are those over whom you are the better fighter. But you would be a liability,” the King said sternly, “Perhaps it is my fault, that through these years you have had too many rights and no responsibilities. Now you must learn. Do not think I have made this decision lightly. No, you will stay in the Greenwood and rule our people in my absence."

Legolas had stood staring at his father. He had wanted to shout and yell and make a fuss, but that would only prove his father's point. "If it is your wish,” he said sharply, gave a slight nod of his head and stalked away from his father without being dismissed. He had felt so bitter and resentful towards the King. This had been his chance to prove himself on the field, and instead he was to be kept locked safely away. Legolas avoided his father for the rest of the night and in the early hours of the morning, and the King had not called upon his son. The host had departed shortly after sunrise, and once they were gone from sight, Legolas had gone down to the practice field. Most of the Halls were empty, with so many having departed for war with the dragons. Sulking would do no good, so Legolas let out his anger and frustration at his father and at being left behind for an hour on the practice dummies. He then went back to his chambers, and changed into a clean, richly brocaded blue tunic and silver hose, and reluctantly taken up his duties as Regent.

Legolas pulled himself back to the present. There was a whispering in the trees, but Legolas could not quite make out what the whispers were saying. There was another noise too, a horse snorting and panting. He got up and went to the door, and poked his head down the corridor. There was no one nearby, but the voices carried through the Halls. He could not hear every word, but one carried more than the others. Hurry.

Legolas moved swiftly down the hallway, barefoot in just a light cotton tunic and trousers. He had a feeling in his chest that something was wrong. Legolas came to a bridge that overlooked the great cavernous Halls of the Greenwood King. There were a dozen figures hurrying across the hall below him. Legolas hid in the shadows of the pillars, though he knew that those below would not look up at him. He felt like a small child again, hiding behind those pillars, watching as the elves had departed for wars, or, just as likely, parties.

"I need fresh towels and hot water," the elf who appeared to be in charge ordered. Who was having a baby? Legolas wondered for a moment, before he recognised the voice and saw that behind the elf giving orders another was carrying a body. "And silk bandages!" Lord Elrond ordered. Legolas did not need to look twice. The cloaked figure in the arms of the elf behind Lord Elrond was no pregnant woman. Legolas felt as though he had been stabbed in the stomach. He slid down the wall behind him, pulling his knees up to his chest, unable to breath. He recognised the boots of the unconscious, cloaked figure.

"My Lord Elrond!" called someone below.

"Hurry!" cried Lord Elrond, as he marched across the bridges below.

_Ada._


	3. Chapter 3

Legolas could not be sure how long after watching them carry his lifeless father's body across the hall it had taken him to leave his hiding place. He had sat out of sight in an area of the Halls where no one would have needed to go. No one came for the Prince and Legolas convinced himself that so long as they left him alone, then his father was still alive. 

Legolas was not sure when returned to his chambers and put on his boots and outer-tunic, or how he had made his way to the armoury. He did not know for how long he had been out in the training field. He did recall taking a pair of long-handled knives out into the yard instead of a longbow or sword. He had wanted something in each hand, and the knives felt good. Legolas hacked away at another training dummy; he had lost count of how many he had destroyed, but he needed a release for the fear and adrenaline that surged within him. Nothing mattered his father died. Legolas was not ready to be King, not now, not yet. The Prince yelled as he stabbed the dummy. Something made a noise behind him, and he quickly spun around. His knives found steel, in the form of a long sword. Legolas was more than prepared to kill whoever this was, but in two quick moves, the swordsman had him disarmed. Now Legolas saw who stood before him.

"Come," said Lord Elrond, re-sheathing his sword. The Healer looked weary. "You need a drink. I will tell you what you want to know." 

Legolas picked up the knives and followed Lord Elrond from the field. He held the knives tightly, one in each hand, to stop his hands from shaking. He felt like a boy, following his tutor, about to get a telling off. Lord Elrond led Legolas into a small solar close to the armoury. Legolas was surprised that Elrond knew his way around the Halls so well, but supposed that Elrond was one of those whom once he knew something, he never forgot.

"Sit down," Lord Elrond said. Legolas felt it slightly peculiar being told to sit in his own house by one who was not of it, but he did so regardless and placed the knives on the table. Lord Elrond poured them both a glass of water. Legolas planned only to sip at his, until the cool sweet water touched his lips and he quickly drained the whole glass. Lord Elrond re-filled the glass, and then sat opposite Legolas at the table. "Ask me anything. I will tell you all you want."

"How long was I out there?" Legolas asked.

"In the yard?" Lord Elrond asked, re-filling Legolas’s glass.

"Yes," the Prince said.

"Since shortly before sunrise, until just now. The sun shall set within the hour, which means you've been out there for over half a day."

At least 12 hours. That was a personal record, not that Legolas meant to be in the yard for so long. No wonder sitting down now felt so good. "And my father?" the Prince asked, knowing that should have been the first question he asked.

"He will live."

Legolas felt relief surge through his body. Of course, Lord Elrond would not have left the King's side if the King had not been stable. "What happened?" Legolas asked. As soon as he did, he was not sure he wanted to know. At intervals throughout the day, Legolas had heard whispers in the trees, and every time he had, he had fought harder. Broken, blind and burnt. The words had scared him more than he could say.

"Your father faced a dragon," Lord Elrond said. "What he did was hardly what any could call wise, but it was most certainly brave. His sacri – what the King did has saved the lives of a thousand of our kin, twice that of men and countless dwarves."

Legolas cared naught for dwarves, men or, currently, even his own kind. "He was…" he could not bring himself to say burnt. "Injured."

"Yes," Lord Elrond answered. "I initially feared it would be fatal, but that is not now the case. Such wounds would have killed a mortal man on impact, and even a Silvan elf, but your father has much of the grace of the Eldar."

Legolas nodded slowly. He could not forget what he heard in the trees. He could hear the whispers even now. Broken, blind and burnt. "But it was…bad?" Legolas forced his voice to stay steady, praying it would not crack.

"Yes," Lord Elrond was terribly blunt. He had promised to tell Legolas everything, but he was clearly censoring his answers. At any other time this would bother Legolas, but not now. Now the Prince was not sure he wanted to know everything. Perhaps Lord Elrond knew that too.

"But he will survive?" Legolas asked, needing confirmation.

"Yes."

"You saved him."

"Yes." The answer was honest, not vain or proud.

"And none other could have done so?"

"Does it matter?"

Legolas shrugged.

"No. Not any other within a thousand leagues of here of whom I know," Lord Elrond replied. Legolas knew this to be the truth also. There was no healer like Lord Elrond.

"Can I see him?"

"Not yet."

Legolas felt crestfallen. He now wanted desperately to see his father, to see that he was indeed alive with his own eyes.

"He is sleeping," Lord Elrond said.

"Sleeping?" Legolas asked. It was highly unusual for elves to sleep. They had no need of it, except in extreme circumstances.

"Go now, and let not the fate of your father trouble you," Lord Elrond said, standing up. "Go and bath, eat, rest. I shall come for you when you can see him."

Legolas stood up also. He did not have to obey the Lord of Imladris. Legolas was a Prince of the realm, Lord Elrond for all his titles and rings was a guest. The guest who has saved Ada. "Then goodnight, Lord Elrond," Legolas said, and left the solar, slowly making his way back to his chambers. He felt tired, not just of body, but of heart too. Shutting the door behind him did not block out the whispers that haunted him; broken, blind and burnt. The Prince’s mind raced. He was certain he had asked Lord Elrond all the wrong questions; only he had no idea what the right ones should be. Legolas felt utterly lost, confused and alone.


	4. Chapter 4

Thranduil woke, feeling confused. Confused as to where he was, as to what had happened. All he could remember was the fire. The bright red light, the searing heat, the smoke… The King wanted to scream, to jump up and grab his sword and fight the darkness, but his body wouldn't work. He could feel something, like the shadow of some terrible pain, but it was just that, a shadow. He wanted to open his eyes, to jump up and to call for aid, but he could not move. Was he dead? Was this death? He panicked.

"Thranduil?" a voice asked. He knew that voice, but couldn't place it. A hand took his own, and another hand was placed on his forehead. He felt relief surge through his body. Someone else was here. He was not alone. The hands were warm and the voice gentle. He felt so terribly cold. "I'm going to run my hand down your face," the comforting voice said. "Then you will open your eyes and try to focus on me. It may be difficult at first. Do not try to speak. You are in the Greenwood Halls, in your home. You are hurt, but you are healing. Now."

Thranduil felt the hand run gently down his face. He opened his eyes and tried to focus on the figure. It was harder than he had expected. The King blinked a few times and gripped the hand holding his for strength. Slowly, the face of Lord Elrond came into focus, but Thranduil knew something was still wrong.

"Hello," Lord Elrond forced a small smile, "I suppose you are noticing that you have no vision in your left eye. Do not worry about that. It has been the least of my worries. You are much stronger than any of us imagined, and I mean that entirely as a compliment. Seldom have I seen anyone cling to life in such a way when you could have so easily slipped away. There is much of the Eldar in you for which I am most thankful.”

Thranduil stared at Elrond through his good eye, taking in everything the healer was saying. His mind seemed to be working fine as the great healer's words were making sense, for which he was thankful.

"Now," Lord Elrond continued, also aware that the King could understanding him. "The worst of your injuries are to your face, which was unprotected from the dragon fire by your helmet or armour, followed by your left arm, which, judging by the damage, you held up to the dragon flame to try and protect yourself. There is also damage to your neck and upper left thigh. You also inhaled enough smoke to kill a battalion of men, as no doubt you have noticed that it is rather hard to breathe. But fear not, for you are well on the mend already. You are awake, after all."

Thranduil squeezed Elrond's hand as hard as he could, trying to control his ragged breathing. Now that Lord Elrond had pointed it out to him, Thranduil realised what a struggle it was to take each breath, with each one being shallow and gasping, his chest making an unpleasant rattling sound. He opened his lips and tried to speak. Lord Elrond let go of his hand and picked a goblet up off the bedside table, putting it to the King's lips. Thranduil drank, trying to swallow despite the pain in his throat and chest, but dribble most of the water down his chin. Elrond put the goblet down, and gently wiped the King’s mouth. Thranduil grabbed the Lord of Imladris's arm, and noticed how weak the grasp was. "Why?" he croaked. If all Lord Elrond had told him was true, if he was that injured, why had he survived? Why had Elrond bothered to save him? Why not save others? Were there others injured? Where was Legolas? Had his son seen him like this? Had they been victorious? Had many lives been lost after his sacrifice? Why had he been brought straight back to the Greenwood? Why had he not been killed where he stood?

"You are the King of the Woodland Realm." Lord Elrond said, "These things shall pass, but we will endure as we have in the past and shall continue to do until we are called across the seas."

Thranduil wanted to tell Lord Elrond that that was not an answer at all, but he did not have the strength. Half of his body he could not feel at all, and the other half felt as though it were made of jelly. There was something he wanted to know more. "Legolas…"

"I have spoken to him. He is eager to see you, which, now that you are awake, he may. Worry not about the kingdom, for it is in very good hands. Sleep now, for the more you sleep, the quicker you shall heal."

Despite still having many questions he wished to be answered, Thranduil suddenly felt incredibly drowsy. He closed his eyes and his mind filled with dreams of starlight and music, a million miles away from the dragon flames that had plagued his mind of late.


	5. Chapter 5

Legolas lay daydreaming. It was a pleasant daydream, unlike many of his dreams of late. He was riding through the woods, the wind blowing his cloak, leaves rustling as they galloped along. He was followed by his closest friends who he knew had his back. He trusted them completely. In the dream, he could not see their faces, as they were cloaked and hooded, but somehow he knew them regardless, and he trusted each of them with his life. His daydream was interrupted with a knock on his door.

"My lord Legolas?"

Legolas sat up suddenly. "What do you want?" he asked the messenger.

"Lord Elrond sent me," she said.

"Why did he not come himself?" the Prince asked, feeling a knot in his stomach.

"I do not know, my Lord,” she replied, “He said that you may now visit your father at your will."

Legolas relaxed. All was still well. “They were his exact words?"

"More or less. Although he did say to ‘prepare yourself’."

Legolas swallowed. "Go," he said to the messenger. She gave a small bow and left. Legolas knew her; she was slightly younger than he was, but she'd been allowed to travel north with his father and the rest of the host. She was a nobody; a lowly Silvan elf, and yet Legolas, a Prince of the realm, envied her. She could do as she pleased, and no one cared. She had been with his father out on the battlefield. She had been among those to bring his body back to the encampment, to call for Lord Elrond, to save the King. Legolas had done nothing. He wanted to retreat back into his dream, but knew it was now impossible. He hopped off the bed and pulled on his boots. His desire to see his father was stronger than anything.

As the Prince made his way through the halls up to his father's quarters, Legolas did his best to prepare himself. He knew his father had been terribly burnt and disfigured, but words and whispers were one thing, and seeing the truth for himself was quite another. He tried to picture the worst, but struggled as he did not know what the worst could be. He took a deep breath as he entered his father's quarters.

"Legolas," Lord Elrond greeted the Prince. The healer was lurking by the door, with the King’s sickbed just out of sight.

"Lord Elrond," Legolas nodded, his mouth dry. He wondered if the Lord of Imladris had left his father's bedside, apart from when he had come to see Legolas a few days past.

"You are ready?"

"Is he awake?" Legolas asked nervously. Perhaps his father would have drifted back to sleep. Perhaps he would not have to do this now. 

"Yes," Lord Elrond replied. “If you are not ready…”

“I am fine,” Legolas lied. He walked slowly into his father's bedchamber, Lord Elrond following behind. At first, all Legolas could see of his father was a mass of white-blonde hair on the pillows before he could make out his father's form underneath all the blankets.

"Legolas?" the King's voice was soft and raspy, where it was usually strong and rich.

"Ada,” Legolas stood awkwardly next to the bed. His father looked terrible. The king was deathly pale, with dark rims around his eyes. He was covered up the chin with blankets an furs, but nothing could hide the scaring on the left side of his face and the cloudy blind left eye. King Thranduil pulled his right arm out from under the covers, and Legolas took his father's hand. Legolas was surprised that despite the blankets, the King’s hand still felt cold. Legolas looked back at Lord Elrond, trying to hide his alarm. Lord Elrond looked annoyingly calm, but of course, he had seen the King looking much worse than he did now.

"Sit down," whispered Thranduil, indicating for Legolas to sit upon the bed, "You won't hurt me." He added, seeing the look upon his son's face. Legolas sat down on the bed, still holding his father's hand.

"Ada…"

The king gave a half a smile. "Now do you understand?" the King asked, his words slow and deliberate for he had no energy to waste on idle chatter. 

"I didn't…" Legolas trailed off. He looked at his father’s hand in his. 

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"You have naught to apologise for. You think yourself wise and grown, but you're not. You will be, though, one day. I've been there too, Legolas. Though I learnt through a much harder lesson than I hope you have."

Legolas thought about the grandfather he never knew. Thranduil seldom spoke of his father, just as he seldom spoke of any of those whom he had lost. Perhaps it was just too hard. Legolas wondered if he'd speak often of Thranduil, had his father's life been claimed. "I thought you were going to die."

The King made an awkward half-cough, half-laugh sound and forced half a smile. "As did I, ion."

Legolas held his father's hand, and the King fell into a light slumber, and all Legolas could think to do was sing softly. He stayed by his father's side for a number of hours as the King had fallen into a deep mortal-like sleep again, before heading out to the training field. Such sleep was unnatural for elves, but Lord Elrond explained it was the best way for the king to heal.

"The longer he sleeps, the quicker he'll recover," Lord Elrond has said, as Legolas exited his father's chambers.

"Do you ever leave him?" Legolas asked, as he departed his father's quarters.

Lord Elrond smiled. "Yes, but seldom. I cannot have him wake alone. He will recover, Legolas."

"What about the…?" Legolas couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

"The scaring? The blindness?" Lord Elrond finished for him. He took a deep breath. "I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Fear not, King Thranduil will still be the most handsome of our kind once he has recovered. But for now we must all be patient. You are now free to come and go from here as you please."

"Why did you keep me away from him for so long?" Legolas asked. It had been almost a week since Lord Elrond had returned from the north with his father.

"There are some things a son need not see," Lord Elrond answered. "If you were one of my children, I would not have wanted you to see me the way he was."

"But…"

"If I thought your father was not going to pull through, I would have called for you immediately. Otherwise, I thought it for the best."

Part of Legolas wanted to argue with Lord Elrond, but most of him knew the healer was right. He looked at the ground to avoid the healer’s gaze. The King looked terrible enough now, and Legolas could not imagine his father looking worse, but knew it to be true. There was one more thing. "Lord Elrond?"

"Yes?"

"I don't know what I'm doing," Legolas admitted.

"What do you mean?"

"As Regent," Legolas looked at the floor, at the walls, anywhere but Lord Elrond's deep blue eyes. "It was different with my father away from the realm, but now he is here but in no fit state to rule. I know not what to do," he confessed.

"Carry on as you have been, Legolas, there has been no issue."

"But my father…"

"No one expects you to be your father, just as no one expected your father to be his father when he inherited the throne. They expect you only to be yourself."

"I do not want the throne," Legolas said softly. 

"Nor will you keep it. Your father shall soon recover, and re-take his seat. But for now, as Regent, you must lead your people. You have been doing so well these past few weeks. Why the doubts now?"

"There is just too much. I – it is overwhelming. I know not where to start," Legolas said. It felt good being able to seek council. As much as he trusted his father's councillors, it was not the same. They were his father’s hand-picked men. Lord Elrond was a trusted third-party. Legolas looked at the bed. Trusted by both the King, and the Prince. 

"Legolas," Lord Elrond smiled, "You start with what must be done first. You find that, and you do it. After that, everything will fall into place."

Legolas considered this for a moment. "So if the first thing I must do is spend an hour in the training yard before meeting with the council, then that is what I do?"

"You are the Regent. No one will question you."

"Lord Elrond, I have heard tales from mortal men to not seek advice from the elves, as they will tell you both yes and no. I have not found this to be so until now. All those who tell the tales must have had dealing with you."

Lord Elrond smiled. "In a month or so, your father will be back upon the throne. Do as you please, Lord Legolas, but I would advise against starting any wars. Your father may now be overly impressed with that."

Legolas felt a small smile creep onto his lips. "You can assure my father that the only battles I shall be engaging in will be with my kin in the training yard, and possibly with his absurd treasury accounts. I should like to feed them to a dragon."


	6. Chapter 6

It was company that Legolas craved the most. Not just any company, but someone who might understand. Not the company of Lord Elrond, or of his father, or the councillors, many of whom still saw him as a young child, despite the Prince having lived more than six times the lives of men. He had many friends with whom he could jest and train with in the practice yards, but they could not help with his duties as Regent, and he now found it awkward to be in their company when away from the yard. Was this how it felt to be a great lord and leader? Did all feel so completely alone?

 _Fine what needs to be done first, and do that, first._ Lord Elrond's advice rung in his ears, but as Legolas sat at the desk in his solar, he had no idea where to begin. With the lists for the winter from the cellarer? Or the letter from the King of Gondor? Or the contract that had come from the men of Laketown? Legolas sighed and put his head in his hands. How did his father manage? How did any of them manage? Why did he have no idea as to what to do? Why did his father have to get hurt? Why did he feel so lonely?

"You look as if you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders."

Legolas looked up quickly, an unexpected visitor standing in the doorway.

"Upon my arrival mere minutes ago, I asked for Lord Elrond," she said, stepping into the solar, looking like something from a dream, "But they told me he was with your father, and he was not to be disturbed. So I asked for you. They told me that you were busy. I told them that in that case, you would welcome an interruption. They asked me who I was, expecting to be allowed have free range of the Halls of the Woodland Realm. I told them…"

"Arwen Undómiel," Legolas said, cutting her off, a rue smile appearing on his face. He stood up and walked around the desk. He took her hand and kissed it. "You are most welcome."

Arwen smiled. "I hear they had no choice but to put you in charge," she teased.

Legolas wondered if she knew how lonely he had felt and how perfect her timing was. "Thankfully that also means I have rule over the kitchens. Would you like refreshments?"

"Please," Arwen said.

Legolas quickly ducked out of his solar and gave an order that cakes and drink were to be brought up for himself and Lady Arwen, and that Lord Elrond was to be informed of his daughter's arrival, if he had not been already. Legolas returned and they went and sat at the smaller table by the window. At least it was not strewn with paperwork. "You have left Rivendell in good hands, I presume," the Prince said.

"My father's steward Lindir takes command when my father is away," Arwen said, "My brothers are there also. Rivendell is much smaller than the Woodland Realm, and is in more than capable hands.”

"But no less important in its role as the Last Homely House."

"Are you in need of respite?" Arwen asked, furrowing her brow ever so slightly.

"I know not what I need," Legolas sighed heavily. "I hardly know of what I do," he confessed and gave a small shake of his head.

"Everything looks to be in order from what I have seen," Arwen said kindly.

"You have been here for a whole ten minutes, if that," Legolas forced a small smile, but still felt the weight of his responsibilities on weigh on his heart.

"Yes," Arwen smiled, "And everything seems to be in order."

A jug of water, a jug of wine, goblets and a collection of sweet and savory pastries arrived. The pair ate and drank, and Legolas forced him mind away from his worries. If the Prince had ever wished for a sibling, it would have been the Lady Arwen. The two were relatively close in age for elves, and loved each other dearly, but only as siblings. If their feelings toward one another had been stronger, they would have mad a perfect match, but neither of their families had forced them into anything they did not wish. They soon fell into a pattern of light-hearted teasing and laughter as the food disappeared from the plates and the wine from the jug. An hour or more passed before Lord Elrond entered the solar.

"What a pleasant surprise," he said.

"Ada!" Arwen smiled and jumped up, embracing her father.

Lord Elrond smiled, then stepped back and looked at his daughter, still in her riding clothes with hair tangled from the wind. "You should go and bath and change, Arwen," he said, "I am sure there will be someone nearby to show you to your room."

"I can do so," Legolas offered, standing up.

"I shall be fine," Arwen said, "I have been here before, Ada."

"Very well," Elrond smiled. Arwen turned and shot Legolas a smile before disappearing from the room. "I have not seen you look as happy as you do just now as I have since I returned with your father."

"I had little reason to feel so happy, my Lord,” Legolas replied. “Lady Arwen, she…"

"Understands what it is to be the child of a great Lord, and the responsibilities that come with that?”

"Did you send for her?" Legolas asked, slightly suspicious of Arwen's perfect timing.

"No. We had always planned that she would leave Rivendell four days past, and meet me either on the return journey, here in the Woodland Realm, or in the field, should we still be there."

Legolas nodded. As he did, he caught sight of the table full of papers, and felt its weight return.

"Do not let it trouble you," Lord Elrond said, noticing the sudden yet subtle change in the Prince's posture.

"But it does," Legolas admitted. "I know not how my father managed when he took the throne."

"The world was a very different place then, Legolas, and your father was almost two millennia older than you are now,” Lord Elrond said. “Your father was a great captain amongst the elvish ranks. It was a tragedy that he saw his father get cut down in front of him, unable to break through the lines to get to his father's aid. Thranduil knew as he watched his father fall that he was now the King, and what that meant for his way of life. It was terribly hard on him, Legolas. After Sauron was destroyed and the orcs vanquished, there much feasting and celebration. It hurt me to see your father draw himself away from such festivities which he had so much enjoyed, in order to be alone with his grief. It took him some years to come to terms with what he had seen on the battlefield, and I do believe that your birth helped him enormously. You were something good in a world that had shown him so much bad, as you still are. In a few more weeks, you shall be able to hand back the responsibilities of the Realm."

"I still know not what…"

"There is nothing on your desk that cannot wait," Lord Elrond said, "Delegate. That it was the councillors are for. Give them something to do; do not carry it all yourself."

"I want only to do what is best, but I know not what..."

"Let not it all worry you know. Go and find Lady Arwen and her companions and your friends. Tonight, eat and be merry. Go."

"I no longer wish to be some silly, frivolous young princeling. That is how they see me."

"Who? Why?" Lord Elrond asked. "Is that how you see yourself?"

Legolas looked at the ground and did not respond.

"No one throws a party or feast quite like your father, Legolas, and none would dare call him frivolous. Go, and give yourself a night off. The Realm will still be standing in the morning."

Legolas sighed and nodded. Lord Elrond was right, as always. In a few more days, no doubt, Legolas would be able to consult his father on matters of the Realm. That thought made his feel a little better. This would not be forever, for it was not his destiny to be King, and he had a feeling that Lord Elrond knew that too. "How is my father?" he asked.

"You saw him but this morning," Lord Elrond said kindly, "You know he is much improved, but still very weak. His appetite is returning, but he still sleeps for long hours. Worry not yourself on your father now. Go. Let me not say it again!"

Legolas smiled. "I shall be in to see my father in the morning."

"Very good. But now…"

"I'm gone!" Legolas smiled as he ran from the solar.


	7. Chapter 7

Since the arrival of the Lady Arwen and her companions three days past, Thranduil had noticed the spirits of Elrond and Legolas lift immensely. The King himself was yet to see the Lady of Rivendell, as he could not yet leave his chambers, nor would he let her come to him. He only allowed Lord Elrond, Legolas and a small handful of others see him. He would add no more to that number, not until his wounds were healed. Thranduil did not care if he was called vain or pretentious, he did not wish for anyone else to see him in this state, weak and vulnerable as he was. He would not have them stare, nor would he be pitied. His body was healing, of course, and Lord Elrond often remarked on how remarkable he was doing, especially considering how ill the King had been. There was little knowledge regarding the care of wounds caused by dragon fire as so few survived wounds as bad as the King’s were, Lord Elrond had explained. 

But Thranduil hardly thought that the healing process was 'remarkable'; he found it tiresome and slow. In his long life he had been injured on a couple of occasions, but the most serious had only seen him out of action for a couple of days. Never could Thranduil have dreamed that after almost a fortnight he would still have to hold onto the bed or walls or furniture when moving around his chambers, just to keep himself upright.

Lord Elrond was not wrong, of course. The burns on his leg and neck were almost healed, movement and feeling was returning to his left hand, despite the wound on his arm still being red, raw and deep beneath the silken bandages. With every hour, the King found himself able to take a deeper breath than the hour before, and his voice once again sounded his own, no longer rough and sore. 

There was one thing that still concerned the king more than any other, and Lord Elrond seemed to be avoiding the topic. There had been no change to the blindness in the King's left eye, and little healing to the left side of his face. Thranduil had caught his reflection in the mirror on a couple of occasions and could not bear to see it. If it were just the unnatural paleness and the feverish glow, then perhaps it would not be so bad. But with the clouded eye and the exposed pink flesh of his left cheek there for all the world to see – it was too much.

The King heard Lord Elrond enter his chambers. "Good evening," Thranduil said.

Lord Elrond entered smiling. He was almost always smiling since Arwen had arrived. "I have brought you some supper."

"I am not hungry."

"You will be," Lord Elrond said, and placed the supper on the table. Thranduil sighed. To be honest, he was hungry, but Lord Elrond had forbid him from eating in bed as of yesterday morning. Getting out of bed meant walking, and his steps were awkward and shuffling, anything but the gracefulness that elves were renowned for. It was easier just to stay propped up in bed.

"I'm going to assume that your apparent happiness has nothing to do with the fact you're about to watch me stumble across the room and more to do with the fact that you've been spending time with your daughter."

"And your son," Lord Elrond smiled.

"Hmm," said Thranduil. The King had wondered if the Lady Arwen's presence would help lift his spirits too. It mattered not that she was the daughter of Lord Elrond and would not judge nor care about the wounds of the King, but the King was too proud. He would not allow the Lady of Rivendell, the Evenstar, to see him scarred and disfigured as he was. Legolas may be Regent, but Thranduil was still King and thus had the final say on who saw him. He pushed back the blankets and swung his legs out of the bed, resting his bare feet gently on the ground. The King slowly pulled himself to his feet, and closed his eyes for a moment as the blood rushed to his head. Whilst Thranduil held onto the bedpost with his right hand for support, Lord Elrond helped him into his dressing gown. "How fares Legolas?" Thranduil asked, feeling the need to continue the conversation.

"You see him daily," Lord Elrond replied.

"He keeps much from me."

"He did, but does no longer. He did not want you to worry about him, and about the kingdom."

"I am his father," Thranduil said, "I will always worry." Slowly, he shuffled across the room to the table, and eased himself into his chair. Lord Elrond sat opposite him. The King dipped the bread into the soup and ate. Even eating made him feel clumsy, and as he was still unable to hold cutlery in his left hand made the task that much harder. The King finished the bread and with some food and half a goblet of wine inside him, noting that Lord Elrond was still having the wine watered down, he felt a little more himself. "Does Legolas yet understand why I could not have him come with the host?" he asked, sitting back in the chair.

"As in you did not wish for him to see you in battle, in case you should perish."

"Yes," Thranduil said.

"I know not," Lord Elrond replied honestly, "He blames himself somewhat, for not being there to protect you."

"If he had been there, he would have got himself killed."

"Yes."

"You foresaw that?" Thranduil asked, furrowing his brow, not quite understanding Lord Elrond's tone.

"No, but I do believe you are right. If Legolas had of seen you on the field, he would have been unable to help you, and then, it is possible that…"

"What have you seen of my son?" Thranduil asked, concerned, his stomach tightening. Lord Elrond's gift of foresight was well known and seldom wrong.

"It would not be wise to say…"

"What have you seen?" Thranduil demanded, and coughed.

Lord Elrond sat back in his chair. He did not wish to enrage the King, or make him work himself into a state. "I have seen Legolas in battle, but it must be well into the future," he said cautiously. "He is a great warrior."

"But?"

Elrond sighed. "I have seen him lose. I think. I have not seen if the battle is lost, but that matters not. It is Legolas himself who – loses. I mean not that he is killed. He cannot reach – I know not who, but he cannot reach them as they fall."

Thranduil gave a dry laugh. "And you are sure that it is my son's future and not my past of which you see?"

"Yes," Lord Elrond said, “It is certainly Legolas. He is reaching, but he just cannot make it through.”

Thranduil’s mouth felt dry. "Can it not be changed?"

"The future?"

"Yes."

"I know not."

"Who does he see fall?"

"I know not. My foresight has shown me only your son, desperately fighting…"

Thranduil sighed and downed the remained of his wine. He could eat no more. "I've had enough," he said, "And stop watering down my wine." He pushed his chair out from the table and forced himself to stand upon his unsteady legs.

"I should not have told you what I have seen."

"You should not tamper with my wine," the King mumbled as he shuffled back to his bed. He wanted Lord Elrond to leave; he wished to be left alone. Thranduil felt so very tired, and he hated it. He was sick of feeling weak and tired and hopeless, with the added knowledge that the pain and hurt of his wounds was being masked by Lord Elrond's magic and potions. Thranduil climbed into bed without removing his dressing gown. He pulled the covers up over the head. He did not care if he was over 3000 years old and King of the realm; he wanted to sulk and indulge in self-pity like a small child.

"Forgive me, I should not have told you of this," Lord Elrond said. There was silence for a moment, and Thranduil hoped that the healer had departed, before Elrond spoke again. " I have an idea that may help you,” the healer continued, “I shall leave you now, and return in the morning. We can start on it then."

Thranduil ignored the healer and listened to him leave. He then threw back the blankets and kicked the bed. He was angry and scared and found himself shaking. Thranduil rolled onto his right, and curled his long legs up to his chest. Now that he was alone, he did not wish to be. He wanted her beside him, to tell him everything was going to be alright. That he would get better, that Legolas would be safe. That the horrors were behind them, and the sun would rise at dawn. To wrap her arms around him and softly kiss his neck and his ear. Closing his eyes, Thranduil could almost feel her warmth beside him and hear her sweet words. But she was gone. She had been gone for years, and he would spend the rest of eternity alone now with a broken body to match his broken heart. 

The knot in the King’s stomach remained. He would protect Legolas forever if he could, keep him safe in the forests of the Greenwood. Thranduil knew he could not keep his son from the world forever, but neither could he watch Legolas lose those he loved in front of him, unable to help. To watch them get cut down, to die, while he was stuck in the lines, unable to break through, unable to help. To live with that thought forever, that you were so close, yet so impossibly far away. It was too hard to live with, and ended up causing you to do mad things like standing in front of a dragon to protect your army so that no one else would have to die. What was it all for, if he could not save his son?


	8. Chapter 8

"How are you feeling this morning?" Lord Elrond asked, still as bright and cheerful as he had been ever since the arrival of Arwen. Thranduil rolled over in bed so as to get a better look at the healer. Lord Elrond has brought a plate of breakfast with him for the King.

"Fine," the King replied, propping himself up with his right arm. The daylight streaming into his room told him it was already some hours past sunrise. "You have already breakfasted?"

"Yes."

"With Arwen?"

"And Legolas. And Arwen's companions, a couple of members of the council and a few others. I must say, Legolas can throw a small breakfast banquet almost as well as you. He's a quick learner when he believes he can do it."

"Hmm," said the King and sat up properly. He felt somewhat jealous of Lord Elrond attending breakfasts hosted by his son, whilst he, the King, hid away in his rooms. "That plate of food wouldn't happen to be leftovers from the spread which Legolas provided, would it?"

"Not leftovers, no. I made this plate up for you myself before the rest of us started. Cold-cuts, cheeses, fruit, bread. I made sure I took a little of each of the best before the others began."

"Hmm," Thranduil said again.

Lord Elrond walked over to the bed and sat down beside the King. Thranduil knew the routine, and let Lord Elrond do as he must. The healer lifted up the wide sleeve of Thranduil’s dressing gown and folded it over the King’s left shoulder before beginning to unwind the bandages on his arm. Thranduil winced as Lord Elrond touched a particularly tender stop on his arm.

“It is sore?”

“Only a little,” Thranduil said. His eye caught those of Lord Elrond for a moment, and without saying, both men knew the pain was lessened greatly due to the healer’s magic. With the bandages removed, both the King and the healer looked at healing wound. Most of the King’s forearm was still red and raw, but the edges were beginning to turn purple and bruise.

“It is improving,” Lord Elrond said. Ever so gently, he ran his fingertips along the wound. Thranduil gave an involuntary shiver, and felt his arm tingle. Looking again at the wound, the King saw that the redness had vanished ever so slightly, and the purple bruising had increased. Lord Elrond gave a satisfied nod, then pulled a clean bandage out of his robes and wrapped up the King’s arm once more. 

Thranduil adjusted his dressing gown sleeve with his right arm, and then swung his legs out of the bed and slowly stood up. As he shuffled across to the table, Thranduil noticed that he was indeed stronger on his feet today than he had been the day prior. After sitting down he flexed his left hand and found it more responsive. Lord Elrond watched him and smiled. "Do not think I'm going to give you the pleasure of watching me fumble with cutlery," Thranduil said.

"Tomorrow you will," Lord Elrond replied. "I shall bring food that you cannot eat without it, and it will feel awkward, and you may fumble a little, but you will most certainly manage."

Thranduil wanted to dispute this, but knew that, as always, Lord Elrond was correct. "You said something last night," the King said in-between mouthfuls of food. "You were going to show me something?"

"I did not think you wanted to know."

"Last night, I did not. A new dawn oft brings new horizons."

"Finish eating, then I shall discuss it with you."

Thranduil finished the plate of food, and noted how Lord Elrond always judged the portions perfectly. "Well then?" he said after Elrond had cleared the table, placing the dishes in the hallway to be collected.

"It shall most likely be hard to start with."

"I do not yet know what 'it' is."

"There is a chance it may not work, but you have much of the Eldar in you, and with that, a certain degree of… magic."

"Go on," Thranduil said.

"Every physical task is hard to begin with. New born babes find it hard to breath, toddlers find it hard to walk, young children find it hard to hold a pen or bow or knife. But we very soon forget it was hard, and then we forget that we ever did not know how to do it."

"I am not sure I follow."

"I do not believe the wounds to your face will ever truly heal," Lord Elrond said, his tone serious. 

Thranduil felt as though he had been kicked in the stomach. "But, surely…"

"Your face was the only part of you that did not have some sort of covering, be it cloth or leather or armour. I believe that there is a way, an old magic, that will – mask the scarring. To trick your brain into thinking it is not there, that it is skin and muscle, the way it should be."

"But…"

"No one will know. No one will be able to tell. The look and feel will be just as it was before."

Thranduil was unsure of what to say. The scars would never truly heal, yet none would be the wiser as to what was underneath the mask? "The look and feel?"

"Yes. Should any touch your face, it would feel as it did. Only at your will should the mask be able to be removed."

"And my eye?"

"That will be harder, but again, there is no reason that you should be unable to trick your brain into believing that you possess full sight in your left eye. You remember what having full sight looked like, how it felt?"

"Of course," the King answered. A fortnight with partial vision did not eliminate from his mind the three millennia prior with full vision. 

"Then it should work."

“Should?” the King asked, raising his eyebrows. 

“A more definite answer I am afraid I cannot give,” Lord Elrond said, “But you have no doubt noticed in these past couple of weeks alone that there is more than one way to see.”

The King considered this for a moment. "Can we start now?" he asked tentatively. 

"No time like the present," Lord Elrond, his eyes full of encouragement.


	9. Chapter 9

"You do not need to look so nervous, Legolas," Arwen said, taking him by the arm as they walked slowly towards the King's chambers.

"I am not," Legolas lied. Lord Elrond had informed them earlier that day that the King was now happy to see Lady Arwen, and that they could call upon the King at their pleasure. Legolas was doubtful and confused at his father's change of heart. Only yesterday he had seen his father, and he had looked little better. Perhaps the King has had a change of heart, but Legolas still did not like the idea of Arwen seeing his father like that.

Lord Elrond stood outside the door of the King's chambers as they approached, and smiling encouragingly.

"Good afternoon Ada," Arwen smiled.

"It is indeed," Lord Elrond said, opened the door and gestured for them to enter, "Please. The King is waiting."

Legolas followed Lord Elrond and the Lady Arwen into the room. The afternoon sunlight cast golden puddles upon the wooden floor. The King sat on the side of the bed looking out of the window, his right side facing the small party. The King turned to them as they entered.

"Lady Arwen," he said, using the bed post to pull himself to his feet, "What a pleasure it is to see one so fair. You must forgive my shuffling feet and shaky hands, for still I am not wholly myself, despite your father's best efforts." The King gave a slight bow of his head toward Arwen, who in turn returned the gesture.

"I do believe you look quite well, my Lord," Arwen said, "Given all your recent trials. Legolas painted a picture quite grim, but I believe he over-exaggerated."

"Most certainly," replied the King, "Please, do take a seat," he said, and slowly made his way to the table and sat down. Arwen and Lord Elrond followed and did as bid.

"Legolas?" Lord Elrond said.

The Prince stood dumbstruck near the doorway. He had found himself quite unable to move ever since his father had stood up and turned to face them. There was some slight bruising and a feint scar below the King's left eye, as well as above his left jawline, but the injuries that had been so ghastly and glaringly obvious the day before were now vanished.

"There are chairs enough," the King said, his voice drawing Legolas from his thoughts.

"Yes," Legolas said and he sat between Lord Elrond and his father.

For some time, the party sat. Food and wine were brought to the table and shared. Lord Elrond, Lady Arwen and the King talked and laughed, but Legolas sat quietly. He did not understand. What magic had healed his father?

As the sun began to set, and the puddles of golden light shrunk and disappeared, Lord Elrond suggested that they take their leave. Legolas noticed a quick look between the the Healer and his father, and wondered if Arwen had seen it too.

"Legolas, I would have you stay a little longer," the King said, as Legolas stood up.

"Yes," the Prince said, sitting down again.

The King stood up and bid goodnight to Lady Arwen, who left the room with her father. Legolas stood up again, feeling silly to be the only one sitting. He had felt silly all afternoon, as though his father, Arwen and Lord Elrond all knew something that he did not.

"Ada," Legolas began as soon as they were alone.

"Come, sit here," the King said, shuffling back to the bed, and sitting down with a sigh. He pulled his legs up and threw the blanket over the top. Thranduil rested his head back against the pillows and closed his eyes. Legolas sat down on the bed beside his father.

"Ada, I do not understand how…"

"Was it not a good surprise?" Thranduil asked.

"Yes, only, I - how? How is this possible?"

"With much effort," Thranduil said, opening his eyes and propping himself up.

"I did not know Lord Elrond could," Legolas said, trailing off.

"It is no doing of Lord Elrond's," Thranduil said, "No doing but my own."

"How?" Legolas was at a loss for words.

"As I said, ion-nin, with much effort. I have been practising with Lord Elrond for the past few days, but never have I kept up the mask for as long as this afternoon."

"Why not tell me sooner?" Legolas asked.

"We were not sure it would work," Thranduil explained, "Or, if so, how well. Lady Arwen knew what we were trying."

"You should have told me," Legolas pouted.

A small smile crept upon the King's lips. "No harm was meant, Legolas. It was my idea not to tell you. Lord Elrond would of had it otherwise, but I wanted it to be a secret," Thranduil reached across and gently took Legolas's hand. "Incase it didn't work," he said softly, looking at his son's hand, instead of his eyes.

Legolas considered all this for a moment. "Is it real?"

"Feel it."

Legolas reached to touch his father's face, and then hesitated. The sight of his father so disfigured was still too clear in his mind. To see him like this, pale and bruised, but whole - surely it was but a dream. Legolas caught his father's eye, and saw such longing that Legolas could not help but reach forward and touch his father's face. "It is real," Legolas breathed.

"It is magic," Thranduil said.

"It has not healed your sight," Legolas said, brushing his finger lightly across his father's eyelid. Thranduil closed his eyes at Legolas's touch.

"How could you tell?" he asked.

"The way you move your head," Legolas said, "It's - I can tell you still cannot see."

"No," Thranduil confessed, "But Lord Elrond said that he hopes in time, that too will come to be."

Legolas leant forward towards his father, their heads close to touching. Legolas wanted to wrap his arms around Thranduil, and for his father to return to gesture; to feel his father's beating heart, his breathing, as he had when he had been a child. But those years were long past, and Legolas was aware that underneath his father's opulent dressing gown were the bandages that held his injured body together. Legolas and Thranduil looked at one another, knowing that this closeness could not be replicated once Thranduil sat once more upon the throne. At once, each remembered their position as King and Prince. Legolas sat up, straightening his back, whilst to the King's softened features returned his usual hardened resolve.

"I will let you rest," Legolas said, "No doubt Lord Elrond shall soon return."

"Yes," the King replied. "Soon I shall meet with my council. I would have you in attendance."

Legolas stood up and gave a stiff nod. "Good night," he said, and headed for the door.

"Legolas," Thranduil said. Legolas stopped and turned back to his father. "I would," Thranduil began, and then stopped. I would do it again if it meant I would save you, he had meant to say, but the words caught in his throat. "Bid you good night," he finished lamely.

Legolas gave another nod, then departed, closing the door behind him and leaving the King alone.


	10. Chapter 10

It had been a fortnight since Lord Elrond had shown the King how to use magic to mask his scars and the King had spent much more time upon his feet, but there was still one more thing he needed to do before he felt he was worthy to reclaim the regency of the Woodland Realm. Thranduil had agreed to give this one go, one literal shot in the dark, as he had refused to try in the daylight. Not that night made much difference to the eyesight of elves, but at least under the veil of darkness, prying eyes would be less likely to wander.

Merely being able to dress in clothing fit for combat had made the King feel better. He wore no armour, as Lord Elrond had assured him it would not be required, but sturdy boots, a leather tunic and had braided his hair for the first time since he had been returned to the Woodland Realm. Of course he could do this, Thranduil had thought, it is simple. Although now, as he stood in the dark training field, the King once more felt doubt wash over him. Lord Elrond stood beside him, their weapons laid out on the table at the entrance to the field. There was no one else around.

"I cannot use a bow," Thranduil said. There would be much he was willing to try, but there were still exceptions.

"You have not yet tried," Lord Elrond said.

"I trust not my eyesight. I should be ashamed to miss," Thranduil had mastered masking the scars and the cloudy blind eye, but forcing sight back into the damaged eye was still a challenge.

"I understand," said Lord Elrond, "But you were ever the better swordsman than bowman." That was true, Thranduil had to admit to himself. But elves were renowned for their skill with the bow, and the King feared to pick one up. Lord Elrond continued, "Close your eyes."

"What?" asked the King.

"Close your eyes," Lord Elrond said. The King sighed and did so. He could hear Lord Elrond moving about him. "You know where your hands are, don't you?"

"Of course."

"Even with your eyes shut, you know where your arms are in relation to the rest of your body."

Thranduil felt something solid being placed into his right hand. He took hold of it, and felt a sudden power return to him. His body remembered the weight of his sword, how it moved, how it cut through the air. "Can I have the other one?" Thranduil asked, opening his eyes and looking at the sword in his right hand.

"Not yet," Lord Elrond said. "Your arm still needs more time to heal. But you know this sword. You know its feel, its weight and length. You know where the end of its blade is in relation to your hand and the rest of your body. Keep your eyes shut, and strike me."

"This is silly," Thranduil said, shutting his eyes again.

"Do it."

"But you've moved."

"Of course I've moved. I was not going to stand half a foot in front of you. Swing and strike me."

"I don't know where you are."

"Yes you do. You can hear me. I won't move. Don't open your eyes, or I'll blindfold you. Hit me."

Thranduil swung half-heartedly in the direction of Lord Elrond's voice and was surprised when he heard the chink of the two blades hitting. He opened his eyes. "You moved," he said to Lord Elrond.

"No I didn't. You found me. Now close your eyes. This time I will be moving, but I'll still be facing you. Trust me."

Thranduil sighed and closed his eyes again. He swung randomly and found nothing.

"You're not trying!" Lord Elrond called.

"I feel like a child," Thranduil moaned, again swinging and missing.

"You look like one too, swinging away at imagined monsters in the dark. You can do this."

"It is folly," the King said, slightly lowering his sword.

"It will work."

Thranduil noticed an awful lot of determination in the healer's voice. He twirled his sword in his hand. Was he prepared to give up so easily? After all he had been through; the last few weeks of sickness and weakness and the shadow of pain… if he could prove he was not broken to himself, he could easily convince his Realm. He concentrated, swung his sword and found steal.

"Good!" Thranduil could tell that Lord Elrond was smiling. "You know your footwork. You know how to move. Keep your eyes shut and fight me."

Thranduil moved his feet and swung, finding Lord Elrond. Elrond stepped away, Thranduil spun around and swung, again finding steal. He opened his eyes. "You're making this easy on purpose."

"Perhaps," Lord Elrond smiled. "If you believe so, keep your eyes open and fight me. Trust your arms, your legs, your ears, and your judgement. Are you ready?"

"Ready," said the King, twirling his sword before lunging at Lord Elrond. The two parried and fought for over an hour, at which time Lord Elrond said that it was enough. Thranduil conceded, but he knew why Lord Elrond had stopped. The King had hardly been on his feet for these past few weeks, let alone wielding a sword, and now was sweating and sore.

"Your body will get used to it quicker than you expect," Lord Elrond said, ever the mind reader.

"I feel like some old, stiff creature," Thranduil said, as the re-entered the armoury.

"A few more days, and you'll be as sprightly as Legolas."

Thranduil laughed. "Few are as sprightly as that boy," he turned to Lord Elrond, "He has done well."

"Yes," Said Lord Elrond.

"You do not think he will mind relinquishing his duties?"

"Not if you feel ready to re-take them."

"After a hot bath, I shall feel quite ready," Thranduil said.

"Shall I summon the Prince for you?"

"Please. He will not mind?"

"I feel that Lord Legolas may be more inclined to throw a party to celebrate his re-found freedom than to mourn the loss of any responsibilities."

"You do not think he has changed, then?"

"Quite the contrary. If I may suggest such council, mellon-nin, give the Princeling some position of responsibility. It needs to be important, anything too minor he will begrudge, but nothing you do not think him suitable for."

Thranduil nodded. "I shall. And I think I have just the thing in mind."


	11. Chapter 11

It was strange to think that in the morning Lord Elrond, along with Lady Arwen and her companions, would be departing the Woodland Realm and returning to Rivendell, many leagues away on the western side of the Misty Mountains. Having lived in such close proximity for the past number of weeks, the King knew that he most of all would find the impending absence of the Lord of Imladris unusual. It was funny how one hundred years could pass in the blink of an eye, and yet there were times when a number of weeks could feel like millennia. Of course, as often as not Lord Elrond had driven the King half mad, but he had saved the King's life and been of great comfort and counsel. But now Lord Elrond's services were no longer required. There was no form of payment nor great shows of thanks, as both the King and the Lord knew that in time any debts would be repaid in time.

The night was perfectly clear of clouds, and moonless, with the stars shining in the heavens providing the only light the elves needed. A great feast and party had been arranged to celebrate their victory in the north some six weeks past and it looked as though the entire populace of the Woodland Realm was in attendance. All were dressed in their finest robes and no effort had been spared on food or wine. Musicians played lively dances, and all had cheered and laughed when Lord Elrond pulled the King to his feet and demanded a dance. The King was quickly rescued by Lady Arwen, looking like the sky and stars themselves in a navy blue dress trimmed with silver thread and diamonds.

Good wine, good food, good music and good friends makes for a most enjoyable night, and Legolas found himself up dancing with everyone from Lady Arwen to the red-haired messenger. When that dance ended, Legolas had to laugh when Lord Elrond took him as partner.

"I am sure, my Lord, that you must be able to find a more suitable dance partner than myself," Legolas teased.

"Your father wishes to see you," Lord Elrond said as they moved in time with the other dancers.

"Where shall I find him?" Legolas looked through the crowds as the dances moved about in a circle.

"He has withdrawn to the throne room."

"And left the party so soon? Pray tell me he is not feeling out of sorts."

"Quite the contrary I believe. The King is feeling quite himself, possibly more so than he has for a very long time. He will not keep you long," Lord Elrond smiled.

"What have you two been conspiring about this time?" Legolas teased.

"Take your leave. The King will be waiting."

~

"Ada," Legolas said, finding his father pacing in the throne room with restless enthusiasm.

"I am sorry to drag you from the festivities so I shall not keep you long," the King said.

Legolas nodded. He did greatly wish to return to the party, it had been a long time since a feast of this renown had taken place, but was curious about his father's summons. "You will be re-joining us too, Ada?" Legolas asked.

"They are for you," the King said, ignoring his son's question, and gesturing to a box sitting on the stairs. Legolas looked at the box. It was made of a dark wood, polished but without pattern or decoration. "Open it," Thranduil said.

Legolas walked forward, somewhat apprehensive, and removed the lid from the box. He felt a grin creep onto his face as he saw what was inside. "Ada, they're…"

"Fit for a Prince," the King gave a rare smile as Legolas took the pair of knives from the box and twirled them in his hands. "Neither time nor use shall cause them to wear. They shall not rust nor chip nor dent."

Legolas couldn't help grinning as he waved the knives, slashing through the air. "They're perfect, Ada!"

"I have seen you practicing with that old plain pair in the training yard, and by all accounts you have much skill with them. It is a less common choice of weapon, but they suit you well."

Legolas stopped swinging the knives and inspected them more closely. The handles were white oak, and the blades were of true elven steel with a pattern of vines inlaid in gold. "I know not what to say for such a gift, Ada."

"Give any thanks in your use of them. They are for the protection of our kin and Realm, and of your friends, wherever those friendships lead you."

Legolas couldn't help twirling the knives once more. "Hannon-le, Ada."

"Go," the King smiled, "Or your absence shall be noted. Leave the knives in your chambers, and take them to the armourer on the morrow to figure how you shall carry them on your person."

Legolas returned the knives to the box, replaced the lid and took it under his left arm. "Yes Ada. I…"

"Have made me proud. When I left you as Regent, I knew not what would come to pass, but you have conducted yourself in a manner most befitting. Now go."

Legolas gave a small bow, and then paused. He touched his right hand to his heart and held it out to his father. Thranduil returned the gesture. Legolas grinned, and with a spring in his step, departed from the hall, leaving the King alone. Thranduil walked slowly up the stairs to the throne and sat. He watched as Legolas disappeared around a corner, his gown billowing behind him. The King was glad that despite everything some innocence still remained in his son. Much had been lost in these past weeks, and the rest too the boy would lose though the passing years, but tonight that mattered little. Tonight was for feasting and dancing and song. Thranduil crossed his long legs and placed his arms up on the throne, the music from the party echoing through the vast halls of the Woodland Realm. Tonight the world was good.


End file.
